The Perfect Crime
by CyraAideen
Summary: Let's commit the perfect crime, I'll steal your heart. You steal mine.


**So, this is my first ever Lumione story. of sorts.  
>it was supposed to be a ten numbered one-shot... and it kind of grew lol so, after you read this you'll see that I added four other couples. There's actually five, but I don't mentiont he fifth one in here. At the bottom there will be a poll, because I think this is going to be sort of a series. And you guys can tell me which one you want to hear next. :)<strong>

**please enjoy! :)**

**disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

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><p><strong>Nineteen by Alex G<strong>

_You'll follow me, into my dreams  
>And spit your words, so desperately.<br>I'll wash my hands of this tragic mess.  
>And truth can't cure the blind, if they don't care to see.<em>

_Nineteen years inside this flesh,_  
><em>I fought through pain, I've paid my dues,<em>  
><em>But that's still not enough for you.<em>  
><em>So where do we go from here?<em>  
><em>You won't keep me trapped in my fears<em>

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><p><em>I.<em>

They say before you die your life flashes before your eyes. But the only thing she saw before she died was him. And maybe that's because he's all she wanted to see, but still.

_II._

The first memory she has of him is that day in the bookshop when she was 12. Oh so young and still a little too naïve. He had walked in and captivated her with one single look. His silver blonde hair almost glowed in the dim light and those cold silver eyes had stared at her with disgust. A disgust that should have angered her, driven her away, but it only drew her further in. There was a darkness to him that drew her in and made her shiver in excitement.  
>That was the start.<p>

_III._

The dreams had started not long after that. Dreams that centered solely on him. And at the end of her second year, the feeling of betrayal at it being his fault the chamber of secrets had been opened, well it was totally irrational. But she won't deny that her heart cracked a little.

_IV._

Then third year came, and even though she tried to push the dreams away, to stop having them, it was hopeless. The kept coming back. And by the time it was time for Buckbeak's trial, all the guilt, frustration, and anger had wound up inside her. So when she punched Draco, she hadn't really seen his face. She had seen Lucius Malfoy's arrogant face sneering at her.  
>It hadn't helped. All she had felt was more guilt. And an overwhelming need to apologize.<p>

_V._

Then she was fourteen and they were at the world quidditch cup and the deatheaters had attacked. And the pain at thinking he was probably out there, participating in the humiliation of those poor muggles, the pain had cut her deep. She had made a vow, a vow that she would no longer think of him, dream of him, and harbor this… whatever this was for him. She would quit this foolishness.  
>She broke her vow that very night. And in the morning she couldn't even bring herself to care.<p>

_VI._

She hadn't seen him again until her fifth year, though the dreams still made a regular occurrence. And then they were on opposite sides, fighting each other. And she had wondered to herself later, if she would have been able to hurt him to save herself or anyone else for that matter. Because she had this overwhelming need to protect him instead of hurt him. And it was totally irrational but no matter how much she told herself this, it didn't change it.

Then they had almost been murdered, and he had been the one holding her, with his wand against her throat. And all she had been able to think in that moment, wasn't how scared she was, but how utterly delicious his body felt against hers. And she could have sworn that for just a second his breathing sped up too. She could have almost sworn that he had buried his face in her hair, for just a millisecond and inhaled. But later that night, she had dismissed the thought. Lucius Malfoy was a deatheater. He would never find a mudblood attractive.  
>And for the first time, that slur actually hurt.<p>

_VII._

Then suddenly, sixth year was there, muggle killings were getting out of control. People were getting scared. And every night she lay in bed, and thought about how he was probably out there participating in the killings of all these innocent muggles. All those little children. But just as often she thought about the torture that Voldermort was probably putting him through. And the disgust she felt with herself almost made her physically sick.  
>Then she would look at Harry and Ron working so hard to help in the war, and she would vow to quite thinking about him. Then night would come and she would break her vow all over again.<br>Night after night. An endless pattern.

_VIII._

Seventh year, or what should have been her seventh year was spent wandering the country looking for horcruxes. The only real comfort she had was her dreams. Her waking moments were filled with guilt and anxiety and fear.

She spent a lot of her time worrying about him. About Lucius. She knew that Voldermort wouldn't be happy with Draco or Lucius. She couldn't find it in herself to care about Narcissa. Which of course left her with more guilt, because, really, what business did she have pining away over a married man? But she really couldn't seem to help herself.

Then there was Ron. Poor bumbling naïve Ron. Who was so obviously in love with her. And maybe she used to have a crush on him, but it was gone. Especially after that stunt he pulled with Lavender.

It was just a jumbled mess of guilt and hope and anger and fear and maybe even _love_.  
>Then they get captured by searchers.<p>

_IX._

The parts she remembers most vividly about their capture isn't Bellatrix torturing her, but Lucius and Draco.  
>She remembers how Draco lied about recognizing Harry. Because, really, if you go to school with someone and have that big a rivalry with them, you can't not recognize them.<br>And of course, she remembers him. Lucius, looking of so very fragile, and trying to hide behind his hair. And he looked worse than she had feared. So delicate, as if he could break any moment. The pain in his eyes had seared her.  
>She had been thrown at him as soon as they got there, he had been ordered to hold her, not let her get away. And he had held her, but oh so gently, and he had been shaking. Absolutely trembling. And this time she was positive he had buried his face in her hair, because she saw Draco staring in surprise.<br>A crinkle of paper, and she felt him slide something in her pocket. And she new that he believed that they would get away. She didn't know why, but he did.

"Yours." One little whispered word in her ear before Bellatrix had seen the sword, but it had made everything worth it. All these years of guilt and heartbreak and falling in love. It had made everything worth it.  
>And they had escaped, and the first thing she had done as soon as she had a moment of privacy was read the piece of paper in her pocket. Twelve words, one meaning, and she had felt like flying.<p>

_Let's commit the perfect crime. I'll steal your heart – you steal mine._

_X._

And then after they had left shell cottage, everything had happened so fast. Stealing the cup from Bellatrix's vault, and going to Hogsmead, and getting into the castle. It was all a blur, overshadowed by the fact that he would be there. When the war came, he would be there fighting on the other side, and she new for a fact now that she could never hurt him. She just couldn't, she'd probably die first.

Then the war was starting, and they where trying to find the other horcruxes. And it was all blur, until Ron kissed her. She had drawn back with a startled, disgusted gasp. Because she did not like him anymore, and his lips felt all wrong on hers. She dimly remembers the hurt, pain filled look on his face, but it was overshadowed by suddenly being surrounded by fiendfyre, and running, running.  
>Then she had seen Draco, hanging above the fiendfyre, face scared, and before she could even comprehend what she was doing she was flying toward him. Pulling him on her broom. And flying for safety.<br>Later, when she looked back, she decided she saved him because she didn't want Lucius to have to go through the heartbreak of losing his only son. Because he really did love Draco. He did.

_She would also realize that the look of relief on Harry's face when she had pulled Draco onto her broom had seemed oddly out of place. _

_XI._

She remembers seeing Fred, and Remus, and Tonks. All of them lying there dead. Cold and lifeless. It was horrible and she felt as if her heart had stopped. And then she was turning running, running. Far away from them and Ron with his heartbroken face and Harry with the guilt shining in his eyes and everybody crying and comforting others. She ran mostly from the guilt. The guilt that not even their deaths could stop her from wanting to be with Lucius. Nothing could stop her from wanting to be with Lucius. She wanted to cry, to scream, to just go to sleep and never wake up.

Then she's next to the greenhouses and she's kneeling on the ground surrounded by the devastation. And she's crying, crying until she can barely breathe. She doesn't even flinch when someone touches her on the shoulder. Because she instinctively knows that it's him. Him, who she should be turning on right know, she should kill him, but the thought just makes her cry more. Because, that is something she knows she can't do. It's just not in her. And it never will be.

"Hermione?" and she's twisting and rising at the same time, throwing herself in his arms, without any thought what so ever to the thought, that maybe, just maybe, he's here to kill her. But she doesn't really care. Because if she dies at least she'll die in his arms. Right? And he doesn't say anything, just holds her, burying his face in her hair, and she thinks, she almost thinks that he cries with her. But she can't convince herself of it. So she pushes it out of her mind and just holds him as they both shake.  
>It's silent comfort, the kind they've both been needing since everything went to hell. It's the kind of comfort where there's no words needed just each other, wrapped in each others arms. It's peace and happiness and serenity bundled into one jumbled mess of comfort.<p>

_It was love at its purest._

_XII._  
>They stay like that until Voldermort's voice bores into their skulls, and then she's turning, trying to run before Harry goes to do something stupid but he's pulling her back, slamming her against the greenhouse wall.<br>And for one moment she feels a sliver of fear, before he's there, kissing her, bruising her mouth with his. And she's clutching to him, tears streaming down her face at the bitter sweetness of it all. At the fact that this was probably going to be their first and last kiss. She clings to him, unwilling to leave the artificial safety of his arms. Then he was pulling away, hissing in pain, clutching his left arm. It struck home in that moment just what she was doing, and she still didn't care, but the full weight of it finally hit her and she almost collapsed.  
>But then he was pressing one last kiss to her lips, murmuring four little words against them, four words that made everything worth it.<br>"You stole my heart." and he was gone, in a flurry of black and silver. He was gone and she was once again running for Harry.  
>But the memory of his lips against hers didn't fade.<p>

_XIII._  
>She stared after Harry's retreating form, guilt and sadness threatening to crush her. She didn't care if this was needed to stop the war, how could she let him walk off without even attempting to stop him? What kind of friend did that make her?<p>

But she knew that even if she had tried to stop him, he wouldn't have listened, probably would have stunned her for her own good or some such rot and then left to be killed anyway. At least this way she didn't get stunned. That would have been just what she needed.

But still, what kind of friend was she if she just let him walk to his death.

_The Rational Kind._

For the first time, she wished she wasn't so rational. Then she could run after Harry and beg for him not to do this.

Not that he would listen and all it would do is make her feel worse.

Ron and her, they sit on the steps in awkward silence, waiting for something, anything to happen. She keeps a good deal of space between them, but, Ron keeps trying to move closer, and every time he shifts closer, she shifts away. Then she's scrunched up against the cold railing, and when he shifts again, she lunges to her feet and starts pacing, ignoring the hurt look on his face.

If he was anyone else, if he only thought of her like a sister, then she would gladly accept comfort.

Then she hears it, the sounds of dozens of feet marching. _Marching to kill them all._

_XIV._

Her first thought, after the numbing blankness of seeing Harry's dead body, is that they're all doomed.

She knows quite well that the apparition wards are all down and that they could all disapparate out, but what good would it do? None.

She sees him, standing there next to Narcissa, a careful distance between them. They're both staring across the space, eyes fixed on someone behind her.

She shifts slightly and lets out a muted sigh of understanding as she spots Draco. She shifts her attention back to Narcissa, only to see her attention has shifted. Narcissa is staring at... she stifles a gasp. Kingsley. Narcissa and Kingsley are both staring at each other, the love in their eyes obvious. And as she turns to meet Lucius's eyes, she muses that maybe, if they somehow manage to win this blasted war, it won't be that hard to get Lucius away from Narcissa after all.

_She doesn't even realize that Ginny's gone. _

_XV._

Neville's talking and she watches Narcissa and Lucius both slip their wands out of their pockets and as the last word slips from Neville's mouth, they disapparate with a resounding crack and appearing next to Draco seconds later.

She's running before anyone can react, lunging in front of Lucius and she sees Kingsley do the same in front of Narcissa. They stand there, silently daring anyone to protest their presence.

A shriek rises above the murmured whispers of death-eaters and order members alike. It's Bellatrix shrieking as she stares at her sister.

"Narcissa! How could you? Don't make me choose! You know who I will pick. Don't make me choose!" I stare, perfectly aware that is the closest anyone will ever see Bellatrix come to begging. Narcissa's lilting voice carries across the space.

"And you know who I will pick. I am sorry Bella." Bellatrix shrieks again and furiously shoots the killing curse at us. Lucius is barreling me over, shielding me before I can even think to react. Kingsley has already done the same to Narcissa, but what they forgot is Draco's still standing there all alone.

I hear Lucius's cry of dismay as he realizes he can't reach Draco in time. Then something invisible seems to bowl Draco over. And the curse passes harmlessly into a wall. I see Draco's lips shape a name, but I don't dare believe it.

My gaze darts to Hagrid and I'm scrambling to my feet. Adrenaline racing through me.

_He's not there._

"Harry's gone!" I hear someone shout it, but I'm already running. Shooting spells at the deatheaters and running. I'm following Draco, who's hand has disappeared and I don't know why he's with Harry and I really don't care. But Draco's with him and I need to speak with Harry. Need to see him. Need to reassure myself he's alive.

_I run._

_XVI._

She ran, but she knew before she got there that she would be too late. The fighting had taken up with a vengeance. And it was a struggle to reach the great hall where Draco had disappeared. Lucius was next to her. Protecting her back, Narcissa and Kingsley where somewhere behind them. She had no bloody clue where Ron was, and she belatedly realized that she hadn't seen Ginny since she had said goodbye to Harry earlier.

House elves were running around, stabbing at people yelling,

"For Harry Potter!" Then they were in the hall, Bellatrix was dueling Luna and Ron, and then before she could kill either of them Molly had killed her.

She saw him then. Voldermort. Striding into the great hall, searching for Harry. And I instinctively look for Draco, knowing that I'll find Harry with him. And I spot him in the corner, locked in a duel with Yaxley. Harry right beside him. Then Yaxley's falling and Harry's twisting Draco toward him, kissing him. And before the shock can even wear off, Harry's running toward the center of the room. Running straight for Voldermort.

They're standing there, facing each other, and before too long a hush falls over the room. Everyone pushing back, lining the all. Deatheaters, students, order members, we're all standing next to the wall, waiting. Waiting for the fight that's been coming for so long to start.

Draco's drifted between Narcissa and Lucius, he ignores the incredulous look I shoot his way and shoots one of his own at mine and Lucius's clasped hand. Kingsley is on Narcissa's other side, and I wonder what people are seeing when they see us.

Because I'm perfectly aware that not everyone is focusing on Harry and Voldermort at the moment. I can feel their gaze burning my skin. What do they see?

_A family._

Yes, maybe that was what they saw. A family, a dysfunctional one, but a family none the less.

_XVII._

It's a freeing feeling, knowing that Voldermort is gone, but it's quickly broken as Molly rushes up asking if any of them have seen Ginny. And it's a testament to how worried she is that she doesn't even bat an eye at Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco. She thinks back, trying to remember when the last time she saw Ginny was.

They had left her in the room of requirements.

They had seen her fighting later anyway.

Then they had seen her next to Fred after they came back from the boathouse and witnessing that horrid snake kill Snape.

And then… and then as they had started walking out they had seen Ginny run out the great hall, she had been clutching…

She strained what had Ginny been clutching?

_Her neck._

A startled gasp escapes. There is no way. But it's true; Snape had been bitten on the neck too. And what other reasonable explanation for it was there?

She starts running, running for the boathouse, not even bothering to tell anyone. They'll follow her. She knows that with a certainty.

Then she's there, standing in the boathouse door, and she's frozen. She can't make her mind comprehend what she's seeing. Ginny's there, hysterical, crying waving her wand. Pouring things down Snape's throat.

And she can see, barely, that Snape is still breathing. It shouldn't be possible.

Nagini was poisonous. He should be dead. There is no way in hell that he should still be alive.

"Ginny?" her voice has the startled red head spinning, pointing her wand at Hermione. But she recognizes her a moment longer and goes back to trying to heal Snape. Completely ignoring her.

She watches Ginny carefully, watching her wand move and listening to the words she's whispering. But it's nothing Hermione's ever seen before. It's not a healing spell. She doesn't know what it is.

And then Ginny just stops, she stops moving, speaking, she even stops blinking.

Then suddenly, Snape sits up with a gasp, hand clutching his throat and Ginny gives a jerk, and they both collapse.

And then for a very long time they both lay there, unmoving. She feels the others behind her, but no one moves. Because they're all thinking the same thing she was. Ginny had been doing some type of ritual, and they shouldn't, couldn't disturb either of them. No matter how much they wanted to.

Then Ginny bolts up suddenly, eyes wild, frantic and she's screaming. Screaming his name over and over.

"SEVERUS! Please, please, please don't leave me. Please!" Ginny is sobbing on his chest and a ragged whisper carries over to us. "I love you." We're all frozen in shock, though I'm not really sure why. We shouldn't be able to be surprised anymore. Really.

And then, somehow, his eyes flutter open.

"Ginevra." We can't hear it, but we see his mouth shape her name. And then she's kissing his face, sobbing again, happy.

And we slip out the door, leaving them alone. Letting them have their privacy for a while. We'll check on them again later.

Molly and Arthur walk off slowly, uncertain looks on their faces, but they don't argue as Luna and Ron usher them away. Narcissa and Kingsley head down toward the black lake. Draco and Harry stare at us for a few moments before wearily starting toward the castle.

Then it's just us. Lucius is staring down at me like he can't believe I'm real. And then he's kissing me, oh so softly. So very gentle. His taste fills my mouth. Mint and honeysuckle. I'm drowning in him.

And in that moment, I know that somehow everything will work out. Because as we stand there under setting sun, everything is filled with peace.

"I love you, Lucius." I murmur against his lips.

"As I love you, Hermione." And I feel complete.

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><p><strong>okay, so here are the couples and the possible titles for the story's. Then just review and tell me which story you want to hear next. :)<strong>

**and then I'll get up as soon as possible, but I'm also trying to write the next chapter for 'Unconventional love', and trying to finish the facts about Lily Luna Potter for my facts story, and trying to write an original book... so... it could take a while lol **

**but anyhoo, here are the couples and titles. **

_**Narcissa Malfoy 'nee Black & Kingsley Shackbolt  
>Imperfectly Perfect<strong>_

_**Draco Lucius Malfoy & Harry James Potter  
>When I'm with You<strong>_

_**Ron Billius Weasley & Luna Lovegood  
>Heart's Song<strong>_

_**Ginevra (Ginny) Molly Weasley & Severus Tobias Snape  
>Why I Need to Live OR Love is Merely Madness<strong>_

__**So please review and tell me what you thought and which couple you want me to write next. **

**happy writing. **

** -Cyra**


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